


give you my best

by KelseyO



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: Ava trying her very best, Beatrice being a gay disaster, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I love all of these girls I love them so very much, Minor Injuries, Night Terrors, Post-Finale, Religious Discussion, Sister Beatrice Speaking French, and then folklore (2020) destroyed it all over again, remember when Warrior Nun destroyed my entire life in a week, things got out of hand so fast!!!, you'll not be getting any apologies from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25540291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelseyO/pseuds/KelseyO
Summary: She finds Ava sitting on top of the van in their deserted back section of the parking lot, looking up at the stars, and her eyes remain on the sky as Beatrice climbs up to join her.“It’s a shame we can’t stargaze on the Cat’s Cradle roof,” she murmurs, trying not to disturb Ava too much. “The view from there is brilliant.”Ava looks down at her lap now, picking at a fray in her sweatshirt sleeve. “I’m sorry I ran away again. That must be getting really annoying.”“On a list of your most annoying qualities, that doesn’t even make the top five.”(Directly post-finale Avatrice nonsense. Fluff, angst, nightmares, group squabbles, feelings. Title from "peace" by Taylor Swift.)
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Comments: 57
Kudos: 666





	give you my best

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in the Warrior Nun fandom now. Oops.

First, she sees Mary get swallowed up by the swarm of people in the courtyard.

Then, she watches Lilith realize that her nails aren’t drawing blood from any of the black-eyed civilians.

Then, she watches Camila hesitate as she aims her next arrow, because she hates hurting innocent people but these innocent people are possessed and hurting her friends.

Then, she hears Ava scream.

Harder and louder and longer than Beatrice has ever witnessed, and the resulting pulse of light sends the entire possessed horde toppling to the ground like bowling pins. The air clears, the wraiths’ growls fade into silence, and Adriel’s dark eyes meet Ava’s. 

He knows he’s alone now. 

One of Camila’s arrows hits him square in the chest and he plucks it out without breaking stride; Mary lands a bullet right above his heart and he doesn’t even react, only sneers as he gets closer to Ava. Beatrice pulls another dagger from her waistband and whips it toward a spot right between his eyes, but he catches it in midair and tosses it aside. Lilith throws her entire body at him but he waves his hand and she flies back into a crumbling column.

Ava draws her sword and charges, and Beatrice marvels at how someone so small can radiate so much ferocity, so much _strength_.

They all flank Ava as she strikes him once, twice, three times, missing narrowly enough that Adriel’s cruel smile is now gone. The two trade blow after blow, and when he knocks Ava to the ground all of them step forward, but she raises her hand and another pulse of light holds them in place.

“Don’t,” she pleads breathlessly, “he’s too strong.”

“All the more reason for us to _help_ ,” Beatrice argues.

Ava finally lands a slice across his torso and he hunches over in pain, giving her just enough time to make eye contact with Beatrice. “You told me to trust you, and now I need you to trust me.”

Beatrice’s fists are clenched tightly at her sides. “Ava…”

“Girl just phased through twenty feet of solid rock,” Mary reminds her, gun still cocked and ready. “Let’s see what else she can do.”

By the time Beatrice returns her attention to Ava, she’s—pardon her language—kicking Adriel’s ass. Her halo and the sword are both glowing even brighter than usual and the combination seems to make Ava more effective than ever. She’s bloodying him up and keeping him on the defensive and—

And then he grabs her by the throat and slams her down onto a pile of rubble so hard that he makes a small crater, and her whole body goes limp.

Beatrice takes half a step forward before Mary’s arm shoots out to stop her.

“You and me both, Bea, but not yet.”

“The last time this happened, she was temporarily paralyzed.”

Mary takes a fistful of Beatrice’s shirt for emphasis. “I remember. But she’s stronger now. Give her a second.”

She’s clenching her jaw so hard that she might pulverize her own teeth, but she watches Adriel approach Ava, watches him stand over her as she tries to get her limbs to move, watches him gather an ominous ball of reddish-black energy in his palm.

“Come on, Ava,” Beatrice begs under her breath. “I know you can do this.”

Mary slowly lowers her arm as the energy cluster in Adriel’s palm gets bigger and brighter. “On my count, if she still hasn’t moved.”

Beatrice nods once, readying her stance.

“Three…”

She already knows the precise sequence of moves she’ll use on him.

“Two…”

Her blood rushes through her veins.

“One—”

Ava lifts her hand like she’s conducting an orchestra and the sword hovers up off the ground behind Adriel, does a 180-degree turn, and spears him right through the heart.

“Holy shit,” Mary mutters in awe, “she just used the Force on that motherfucker.”

“The Force?” Camila asks. “I haven’t come across that in any of our texts.”

Mary shakes her head. “One day I’m gonna get y’all to watch _Star Wars_.”

He stares down at the blade like he can’t believe what he’s seeing, and to be fair, Beatrice kind of can’t either. “That’s impossible.”

Ava pushes herself up from the ground, brushing dust off her jacket like she merely tripped and fell. “That’s a very sexist assumption.”

Adriel reaches back to try to pull the handle out but Ava grips the blade with her bare hands and holds it in place; both her halo and the sword are glowing again, and the blade begins to burn a hole in Adriel’s chest. He snarls in pain but then his snarls turn to screams, and within seconds his whole body is an unrecognizable, human-shaped whirlwind of shadowy fire.

Then he’s gone.

The sword clatters to the cobblestones below and Ava’s knees hit the ground, her breaths wheezing in and out as if there’s not enough oxygen in the world.

Mary doesn’t stop Beatrice from going to her this time. “Ava? Are you alright?”

She nods. “Is everyone else okay?”

Beatrice kneels beside her, hand on Ava’s back, hating how much blood she sees on Ava’s face, clothes, hands. “Yes. You saved us all, Ava.”

“Can we go home now?”

Something deep inside of her crumbles at Ava’s use of the word “home”; they both know the Cat’s Cradle isn’t safe anymore (and since when does Ava even consider the Cat’s Cradle to be her home? _Their_ home?) but Beatrice thinks she might understand what Ava is getting at nonetheless. She squeezes Ava’s shoulder. “Of course.”

Ava nods again and collapses against Beatrice, who has to adjust her stance to keep from toppling over herself. She reaches out to gently turn Ava’s head and finds one eye closed and the other swollen shut.

“Is she okay?” Camila calls out.

“Just drained, I think,” Beatrice replies, then swallows hard. “I hope.” She drapes Ava’s arm around her own shoulders and wraps hers around Ava’s waist. “We need to get her out of here.”

Mary comes around to Ava’s other side and holds out her arms. “I got her.”

Beatrice tightens her grip. “As do I.”

“Look,” Mary retorts with an authoritative eyebrow raised, “I’m the shotguns, you’re the ninja moves. We need your hands free more than we need mine.”

Lilith appears beside Mary. “I think we’re better off with shotguns _and_ ninja moves. I’ll take her.”

Beatrice huffs. “While I’m flattered that you all think I’m the only one capable of getting us out of here in one piece, I can _assure_ you—”

Ava chooses this moment to loll her head to the side and her nose brushes against Beatrice’s neck. “Smell good,” she mumbles under her breath.

(Beatrice has never experienced any ventilation issues within her combat habit, but now she feels heat in her neck and face.)

Mary helps Lilith take Ava from Beatrice without another word, and it’s not until Camila pulls Beatrice by the elbow that she finally gets her feet working again.

.

They end up at a motel, of all places. It’s gloomy and smells odd but no one is trying to kill them, so if there are any complaints about the stains in the carpet or the constant drip of the bathroom faucet, they’re going unsaid for now.

Lilith sets Ava on the bed furthest from the door while Mary and Camila draw the curtains closed, and Beatrice feels unusually useless as she stands to the side with her hands clasped behind her back.

She opens her mouth to try to say something smart or important but Mary beats her to it. “We gotta refill our ammo and get some fresh clothes. Camila, Lilith—you up for some errands?”

Camila smiles eagerly. “Always.”

Lilith catches Beatrice’s eyes and gestures to Ava. “Keep an eye on her.”

Beatrice nods.

“We’ll be back in a few hours,” Mary tells her. “Lock the door and don’t open it for anyone.”

Beatrice nods.

They leave, and now it’s quiet; just Beatrice, Ava, and the drip.

She clears her throat and goes into the bathroom to look for a small towel or hand cloth and finds herself glancing into the mirror. Her habit is caked with dirt and there’s a small tear by her collarbone, and she sighs as she pulls off the hood and drapes it over the edge of the sink basin.

There are linens in the cabinet below and she finds a relatively clean rag, soaks it with warm water, and returns to the main room, perching on the edge of the mattress. Her movements are slow and careful as she wipes away the dried crimson from Ava’s skin, avoiding her bruised eye as she reveals each scratch and cut one by one, and she’s relieved to find that nothing needs stitches.

“Beatrice,” she hears somewhere within Ava’s latest exhale, or at least thinks she hears, and she’s not sure if Ava’s dreaming of her ( _oh_ ) or has guessed that Beatrice is the one by her side ( _oh_ ) or maybe even _hopes_ that it’s Beatrice ( _OH_ ).

Regardless, she sort of stops breathing herself as she gently takes Ava’s hand in hers, eyeing the bruises and scrapes along her knuckles that still haven’t quite—

Ava startles awake, gasping for breath and bolting upright, and Beatrice is already brushing Ava’s hair away from her face and gently cupping her cheeks.

“You’re okay, Ava,” she says in her calmest voice, “You’re safe, and you’re healing, and I’m here.”

The frightened brown eyes don’t meet hers until the very last two words.

Beatrice scoots an inch closer, feels Ava’s pulse hammering beneath her palms. “You’re okay,” she repeats; Ava throws her arms around Beatrice and she realizes Ava’s entire body is trembling. “What’s wrong?” she asks quietly, rubbing soothing circles between Ava’s shoulder blades. “Did you see something?”

“I saw Adriel,” Ava croaks. “I don’t know if it was the past or the future, but…” She sobs and Beatrice squeezes her tighter. “But it was bad. It was really, really bad.” Ava takes a deep breath. “What if I didn’t actually kill him? What if he’s still out there somewhere?”

“Then we’ll find him again, and we’ll end him again,” Beatrice replies with complete confidence. “But first, we rest.”

She feels some of Ava’s shakes subside, and then feels Ava nuzzle just a little deeper into the crook of her neck, and Beatrice wonders if Ava can feel how quickly her own heart is beating. 

(Based on her limited experience with physical affection, she’s fairly certain this embrace has lasted longer than is customary, but Ava’s grip hasn’t faltered yet, and Beatrice makes a silent promise to herself that she won’t let go.

That is, until Ava does. Of course.)

“That dream, or vision, or whatever it was…” Ava murmurs, her words still breathless and hushed. “It sucked. Like a nightmare, but ten million times worse.”

“I’m so sorry, Ava,” is all Beatrice can manage as her entire chest cavity aches at the thought of Ava having come so far and fought through so much and still experiencing this pain. “Is there anything I can do?”

Ava takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, still not moving away from Beatrice. “I don’t know. The sound of your voice is kind of helping.”

(Beatrice chooses not to dwell on the potential implications of this statement.)

“You’re fluent in French, right?” Ava asks after a moment.

“I am. Do you know any?”

The smallest chuckle against her chest. “Nothing beyond _bonjour_ and _merci_. Can you say some stuff?”

It’s Beatrice’s turn to laugh. “Some stuff?”

“Anything. I just wanna hear it.”

Beatrice sighs, makes several terrifying decisions, and prays to God that Ava truly doesn’t speak the language. “ _Parfois je pense à me raser la tête_ ,” she begins as a test, and gets no reaction from Ava aside from a content hum. 

“ _J’aimerais pouvoir te protéger de tout_ ,” she says quietly, listening to Ava breathe in and out, in and out, and tries to convince her own lungs to match the steadying pace. “ _Tu es la plus belle fille que j’aie jamais vue_.”

She can feel the tension slowly leaving Ava’s muscles, feel the tremors ease. “ _J'avais peur de ressentir ça_ ,” Beatrice admits, surprising even herself with the thoughts that are flowing out, _“mais tu me donnes envie d'être courageuse_.”

Ava’s hold is loosening; there’s no one else in the room, but her voice gets even quieter. “ _Je n’ai jamais embrassé personne avant_.” Ava’s arms slip down, down, down, and now Beatrice is holding her up. “ _Mais je veux t’embrasser_.”

Beatrice lets her latest confession hang in the air for a long moment, feeling oddly liberated by the lack of audience even with Ava so physically close to her, then braces Ava’s head and leans forward to ease her back against the pillows. She gets Ava horizontal again then finds herself frozen in the position, eyes unable to focus on anything besides Ava’s lips, not quite willing to put any distance between their bodies.

Eventually she takes another steadying breath, sits up, and returns to simply holding Ava’s hand. “ _Je me demande si un jour je le ferai_.”

.

Ava doesn’t wake up again until hours later when the girls return with supplies, and she seems calmer as she stretches and smiles sleepily at Beatrice.

“How’s our Sleeping Beauty doing?” Mary asks, setting down two duffel bags with a heavy _thunk_.

“Oh, y’know,” Ava sighs, “I had kind of a possibly demon-induced panic attack. But I’m all rested up, good as new.”

Beatrice crosses her arms over her chest. “Your wounds haven’t healed yet. You are _not_ good as new.”

Ava smiles sweetly at Mary. “Beatrice has been taking very good care of me.”

“Yeah,” Mary deadpans, “I’ll bet.”

Camila unzips another bag and pulls out some pants, a shirt, and a hoodie. “We found some fresh clothes that should fit you,” she announces to Ava, holding them out to her.

Ava sits up slowly and with a grimace, clutching at her side, and she’s out of breath by the time she swings her legs over the edge of the bed.

“Ava…?” Lilith begins, but she’s waved off.

“I’m okay,” Ava insists, sounding tired but sincere enough, and she takes the clothes and hobbles to the bathroom.

The second the door closes, all three of them turn to Beatrice.

“How is she?” Lilith demands. “Really.”

Beatrice pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs sharply. “I’m not sure. I cleaned her up the best I could, but it’s difficult to know the extent of her internal injuries without our usual medical resources. I don’t think she’ll be battle-ready for a few days, at least, if not weeks.”

“What was she talking about, with the panic attack thing?” Mary asks.

Now Beatrice takes a seat on the edge of the mattress. “She said she isn’t sure if it was just a dream, or if it was an actual vision, but it involved Adriel, and she seemed terrified.”

Camila sits beside her. “What do _you_ think it was?”

“My understanding is that if a warrior nun has visions, they tend to happen more than once, whether it’s the same images repeatedly or more of a chronological sequence. I know she’s seen things before, and those were all events in the past, but…” She shrugs. “I’m not sure we can discount either theory yet.”

Ava opens the bathroom door and flops down on her stomach on the bed with another grimace, inserting herself between Beatrice and Camila. “What theories?”

“About whether or not you’ve secretly been a Jedi this whole time,” Mary says. “Seriously, how the hell did you pull that shit with the sword?”

She glances at each of their faces, looking cynical. “I mean—I can heal, I can phase through walls, I can destroy Divinium with my bare hands… is a little telekinesis _really_ that exciting?”

“Ava,” Beatrice replies quietly, “no warrior nun has ever done that before. Not according to any official texts that we know of.”

Ava sits up and seems more serious now. “Wait. For real?”

Camila studies her with wide, curious eyes. “Do you think you could move other things? Or does it have to be an object made with Divinium?”

“I-I don’t know, I just—I thought about doing it, and then I knew that I could do it, and then I just… did it,” Ava explains, looking down at her hands.

Lilith goes to the desk and grabs the pen sitting on top of a notepad. “Do you think you could try again, with this?”

Ava looks around. “What, you mean like right now?”

“Why not?” Mary asks. “You got somewhere else to be?”

“Well—sometimes I can only do stuff in the moment, like when we’re in danger—”

“We’re always in danger,” Lilith reminds her.

They both look at her expectantly and she shrinks. “I get that, but we’re sitting in a motel room. It’s not like Adriel’s gonna bust through the door at any second.”

“He might,” Mary warns. “We don’t know.”

Lilith begins rummaging through one of the supply bags. “Just because we’re not at the Cat’s Cradle anymore doesn’t mean our training stops.”

“Maybe we should give her some more time to recharge,” Camila suggests. “Let her dive back in when she’s at full energy.”

“And what if she never gets to full energy again?” Mary challenges. “We have no idea what actually happened in that courtyard, and we can’t afford to sit around and—”

“When I said it could be days before she’s ready,” Beatrice interrupts, “I meant days of _rest_ , not of overexertion that could lead to serious injury, or any number of problems with the halo. It’s not even been twelve hours yet; she needs time.”

Lilith is shaking her head. “I understand that you’re concerned—we all are—but…”

Mary cuts her off and glares at Beatrice. “You might be the orphan whisperer, but you are _not_ the boss here.”

“Neither are you,” Beatrice replies coldly.

Ava scrambles off the bed. “I need some air,” she mutters, then realizes that both Mary and Lilith are blocking the door and instead phases through the wall.

“Great, that’s just great,” Mary grumbles. “Once a flight risk, always a flight risk.”

“I’m sure she’ll be back soon,” Camila says. “Sometimes walks help me, too.”

Lilith makes eye contact with Beatrice and nods her head toward the door.

Beatrice doesn’t say a word on her way out.

.

She finds Ava sitting on top of the van in their deserted back section of the parking lot, looking up at the stars, and her eyes remain on the sky as Beatrice climbs up to join her.

“It’s a shame we can’t stargaze on the Cat’s Cradle roof,” she murmurs, trying not to disturb Ava too much. “The view from there is brilliant.”

Ava looks down at her lap now, picking at a fray in her sweatshirt sleeve. “I’m sorry I ran away again. That must be getting really annoying.”

“On a list of your most annoying qualities, that doesn’t even make the top five.”

She gives Beatrice a look, and Beatrice smiles, and Ava relaxes. Ava takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and pivots her body ever so slightly to face Beatrice.

“I’m just… I’m sick of being the odd one out,” she says, returning her attention to her sleeve. “First I was the orphan who was quadriplegic, then I was the runaway with all the secrets, then I was the reluctant warrior nun who didn’t deserve her powers, and now I’m the _freak_ warrior nun who apparently has _extra_ powers.”

“You’re not a freak, Ava,” Beatrice assures her, resting her hand on Ava’s back, where it nearly always finds itself these days. “I’m sorry if any of us made you feel that way. We’re just trying to understand, that’s all.”

Ava leans into the contact and eventually rests her head on Beatrice’s shoulder. “I guess I can’t blame you. I want to understand, too. But it’s kind of intimidating to always be the topic of conversation. To feel like I’m trapped under a microscope.”

Beatrice laughs softly.

“What?”

“It’s just… that’s been me for most of my life. Always feeling judged, and studied, and scrutinized.”

Ava is silent for a beat. “Because of—?”

“Yes,” Beatrice answers immediately, not needing Ava to vocalize the details, “because of that.”

“It’s not fair, people making us feel like shit about things we have no control over. I didn’t choose my halo, and you didn’t choose your feelings.”

“No, I certainly did not,” Beatrice mutters to herself.

“If you could,” Ava says carefully, lifting her head to look at Beatrice now, “like, if you _did_ have a choice… would you keep those feelings?”

Beatrice feels the cool breeze swim through her hair; it’s not very often that she’s outside without her habit. “I spent a long time struggling with that very question.” She takes her hand back but shifts a fraction of an inch closer to Ava. “A younger me probably would have said no… would have wanted to be everyone else’s version of perfect.”

“What about this you?”

“This me knows that there’s no such thing as ‘perfect,’” she says easily enough, even as she remembers a time when these words seemed impossible. “We’re not meant to be perfect. We’re meant to love, just as God does; that’s all He’s ever asked of us. Nothing more, nothing less.” Beatrice glances at Ava. “What about you? Would you keep the halo?”

She smiles just a little. “It brought me to you, didn’t it?” The words are confident, but her body language isn’t, and she seems to make herself smaller. “I mean, before the halo, I was dead. And before I was dead, I was trapped on a shitty hospital cot with nothing and nobody. And sure, this stuff is hard and scary and dangerous, but like…” She shrugs. “At least I’m _something_ , now.”

“Ava,” Beatrice whispers, tilting Ava’s chin up so she can look her in the eye. “You’re everything.”

Her words fill the space between them, except there’s almost _no_ space between them anymore, and Beatrice can’t be sure whether Ava is looking at her or at her lips because Beatrice is looking at Ava’s lips and not at Ava, and just as she processes Ava’s breath mixing with hers, she draws back an inch.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” she says, this time in English. “Is that weird?”

“No weirder than a paralyzed orphan being murdered by an evil nun, resurrected by an angel’s halo, joining a team of much better and cooler nuns, saving the world, and crushing on the most badass person she’s ever met.”

Beatrice’s skin is on fire. “I _am_ quite a badass.”

Ava grins like she couldn’t be more endeared. “So, are you gonna kiss me or what?”

“Yes,” she confirms with a nod, “I am. Any moment now. Just as soon as I… Um—”

“You are _so_ beautiful when you’re flustered.”

Beatrice pulls Ava all the way in and kisses her without any further preamble, holding it for one, two, three seconds before a brief pause. “How was that?”

Ava’s jaw is slack and her tongue swipes across her bottom lip. “Fucking awesome,” she manages, sounding dazed. “Can we do it again?”

“Sure,” Beatrice answers matter-of-factly, and then their mouths are pressed together again, and Ava’s palm is cradling the back of her neck and now there’s a delicious pressure against _her_ bottom lip— “What was that?”

“Tongue?” Ava offers.

Beatrice nods again and says “Okay,” or maybe she doesn’t because they’re already kissing again, and again, and again. “Didn’t you have a boyfriend?” she recalls abruptly.

“For, like, a week.” Her words are dismissive and she’s already leaning in, and Beatrice wants to let her, except…

“Do you still have feelings for him?” Beatrice makes herself ask, and somehow the question feels like a braver act than many of the life-endangering ones on her resumé. Ava’s eyes dip down—not to Beatrice’s lips, but simply away—and Beatrice’s heart sinks. “It’s okay, Ava. I understand.”

Ava’s shaking her head now. “No, it’s…” Her playfulness is gone, replaced with pure vulnerability. “Whatever I had with JC,” she continues, “it’s not like this. _Nothing_ like this.” Her eyes dare to meet Beatrice’s again. “Not even close.”

“I don’t understand,” Beatrice admits, which is… rare.

She takes a deep breath and brings her knees to her chest, facing forward now but with the whole side of her body still touching Beatrice. “He was fun, and kind, and _very_ sexy,” she adds onto the end of her list before clearing her throat, “but he was also the first human being I ever met outside of the convent. Everything felt new and exciting and I just kept chasing that, because I didn’t know anything else.”

“Well, technically—”

“Yes, I know you guys were already trying to recruit me, shut up, that’s not the point.” She glances at Beatrice. “Lilith and Mary and I all got off on the wrong foot—y’know, with all the hunting and punching—”

Beatrice gives her a look. “If you hadn’t been so stubborn—”

Ava gives her a look right back. “I didn’t interrupt you the entire time you were reading from that book. Stop cutting off my monologue.”

“Fine. Sorry.”

“What I’m trying to say is…” She worries her bottom lip and Beatrice is struggling to focus on the matter at hand. “You—you’ve always believed in me, when no one else did. When I didn’t even believe in myself. You got me through those rock walls, you… you’re the only person who’s ever promised me that I’ll never be alone.”

Beatrice swallows hard. “I was just telling you the truth.”

Ava lets out a quiet sigh and turns to face Beatrice again. “Maybe. But it wasn’t Mary or Lilith on that mic with me. Or even Camila, who’s literally a gun-wielding, arrow-shooting, karate-chopping Care Bear. It was you.”

“What the hell is a Care Bear?”

“I thought we agreed that you weren’t gonna interrupt me anymore.”

Beatrice blinks. “I didn’t.”

Ava presses her hands over her face and drags them down in exasperation. “You make me feel safe, and you make me want to be better, and I think you’re great, okay?” she blurts. “ _Fucking_ deal with it.”

“Ava.”

“ _What_.”

Beatrice touches her forehead to Ava’s. “Seriously, what’s a Care Bear?”

She laughs now, so fully that Beatrice thinks she feels it in her own chest and knows she wants to hear that sound as often as possible going forward. Ava closes in for another kiss, moving torturously slowly, but Beatrice forces herself to be patient as Ava’s lips finally meet hers, and it suddenly occurs to Beatrice how nearly identical kissing is to martial arts: two people moving together, planning ahead while still constantly adjusting to one another’s decisions, calculation and improvisation both equally valuable—

“You’re getting kind of in your own head over there,” Ava notices with a teasing smile, “aren’t ya.”

Beatrice can feel her cheeks flush red. “I told you, I’ve never kissed anyone before. Never even really _thought_ about it before now. So this is a bit… overwhelming.”

Ava tilts her head thoughtfully, looking up at Beatrice like a puppy willing someone to love it.

“But no more so than being raised to think you were born a heathen, turning to God because no one else in your life can be bothered to love you unconditionally, becoming an expert in your Faith so that you can prove everyone wrong, and then falling for the last person you’d ever expect.”

Ava certainly doesn’t seem to have been expecting any of that, and it takes her a moment to speak. “What, are you saying I’m not your type?” she jokes, but Beatrice can sense her self-consciousness.

She ghosts her fingertips along Ava’s cheekbone, around the shell of her ear, then from her jaw to her chin. “You are quite unconventional, Ava,” she says softly, “but my whole _life_ has been unconventional. Why would I stop now?”

The eyes in front of hers become glassy and Beatrice wipes away the tears before Ava can even lift a finger; Ava chuckles in embarrassment.

“Fuck. Sorry. I…” She licks away the moisture that’s settled along her lips, but more tears fall even as she tries sniffing them back. “I’m realizing that you know literally everything about me and my weird-ass life, and you’re still… here,” Ava acknowledges, gesturing between them. “And like, kissing me and stuff. And it just… I don’t know,” she says with a shrug. “That feels pretty unconditional, too.”

Beatrice brings Ava close again, but for a hug this time. “ _J’aimerais pouvoir te protéger de tout_ ,” she finds herself repeating.

“What does that mean?” Ava asks between her sniffles.

“It means,” she replies, “I wish I could protect you from everything.” (She closes her eyes, takes the plunge.) “Did you recognize it from before?”

Ava pulls away and wipes her nose with the back of her palm. “Wait, is that one of the things you said?”

“I believe I just confirmed as much.”

“What were the other things?”

Beatrice shakes her head. “I’ll never tell.”

Ava stares at her in disbelief. “We basically just spilled our souls to each other. What could you _possibly_ feel the need to hide at this point?” Beatrice remains silent, and Ava’s shoulders sag. “You’re really not gonna tell me, are you.”

She leans in close and kisses Ava on the cheek. “Fucking deal with it,” she whispers into Ava’s ear.

.

The room is silent when they return—Mary and Lilith cleaning their weapons while Camila reads the tattered Bible from the nightstand—and none of them says anything as Beatrice sits cross-legged on the floor to meditate and Ava curls up on the bed with her back to everyone.

Tension is thick in the air, but Beatrice doesn’t see the point in addressing it now. Each of them is fighting their own personal battles and needs time to process and reflect, and she knows they’ll come back together, stronger, when the time is right.

And so she closes her eyes, times her breathing, and imagines healing white light filling each limb, muscle, particle of her body. She imagines blood and oxygen rushing to where it’s needed most, and her skin hardening to protect the places where it’s been split open, and her heart pumping steadily, managing the impossible number of tasks that keep her alive at any given moment.

(She will never not be amazed by God’s creation.)

“Does anyone else see that?” Camila asks.

Beatrice opens her eyes and has no idea if minutes or hours have passed, but looks up to find Camila craning her neck toward Ava.

The halo is glowing.

Lilith and Mary set their tools down but Beatrice gets to her feet and holds out her hand as a gesture for them to stay put. She sits beside Ava and places a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Ava?”

She doesn’t stir. Beatrice checks her pulse, then her temperature, then carefully lifts Ava’s unbruised eyelid and finds only white. “It’s a vision.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Mary mutters. “Did the halo glow before, too?”

“I didn’t see. She was lying on her back.”

Lilith sighs. “Does anyone have any idea at all of what this means?”

“Not without our library,” Camila replies sadly.

Mary looks frustrated. “Should we wake her up?”

The halo’s light goes out and Ava startles awake just like before, lungs heaving for air like she’s just resurfaced after being underwater too long. Beatrice scoops Ava into her arms again and finds that she’s shaking just as badly as she was the first time, and clinging to Beatrice with just as much need. “Shhh,” she whispers. “You’re alright, Ava. It’s over now. Whatever you saw is gone. Just focus on me.”

“What _did_ you see?” Mary asks, but Beatrice holds up an index finger to silence her.

“Just like last time, okay? _J'ai entièrement confiance en toi_ ,” she says, translating whatever comes to mind as quickly as she can. “ _Quoi qu'il arrive, nous le découvrirons ensemble—je promets_.” Beatrice pulls back just enough to look into Ava’s red eyes, and she cups her cheeks. “ _Je suis ici, et je t'aime_.”

Ava wipes away some tears and holds Beatrice’s hands in place. “Are you gonna tell me what any of that means?”

Beatrice kisses her forehead and lets the corner of her mouth twitch into the smallest smile. “Not a chance.”

That gets another laugh from Ava, who looks exhausted but then embarrassed as she realizes that everyone is watching.

“Hey… guys.” She clears her throat. “Like I said, good as new.”

“Are you okay?” Mary asks reluctantly.

Ava nods. “I think so. Just… really fucking tired.” Her eyes return to Beatrice. “Do you think this is a permanent thing? I’m never gonna get any sleep if Adriel keeps popping into my brain every time I close my eyes.”

Beatrice takes Ava’s hands into her own. “We don’t know yet, but—”

“But that should be our focus for now,” Lilith finishes, looking at each of them in turn, then at Ava. “Helping you rest. Whatever you need.”

Mary sets her gun down. “I agree.”

Ava looks at her in shock. “You—you do?”

“And I know a way to put you _right_ to sleep,” she adds, holding up her first and pointing to her knuckles.

Beatrice immediately puts herself between Ava and Mary, who waves her off.

“Relax, it was just a joke. Mostly,” she mutters under her breath.

Beatrice feels Ava squeeze her hand and turns back around. “What is it?”

Ava’s wearing her puppy eyes again. “D’you think you could just… stay close? Like, stay in general. While I sleep.”

“That’s probably the best way to monitor the physical effects of these visions,” Camila confirms. “You’ll know right away if something’s wrong, and we’ll all be here to assist if needed.”

Mary and Lilith exchange glances, and Lilith shrugs. “It’s the best plan we’ve got right now.”

“It’s the _only_ plan we got right now,” Mary corrects. “Let me know if you change your mind about me punching you.”

“Or I could do a sleeper hold,” Lilith offers.

“ _Or_ ,” Ava replies, “nobody touches me except Beatrice.” Her cheeks redden and she winces. “Ooh, that came out wrong.”

Beatrice takes a calming breath. “Okay, _enough_. Mary and Lilith, stop harassing Ava. Ava, lie down. Camila, can you keep an extra eye on Ava, just in case?”

“Of course,” Camila agrees.

Ava is horizontal again but watching Beatrice, and she sighs as she reclines down to Ava’s level. “Please try to sleep.”

She moves closer and touches her forehead to Beatrice’s. “Believe me, I’d love to. I’m just scared.”

“I know,” Beatrice acknowledges softly. “You have every right to be, but I promise you— _je ne quitterai jamais ton côté_.”

Ava rolls her eyes. “Whatever that means,” she says, then tucks herself against Beatrice’s chest. “Is this okay?”

Beatrice shifts onto her back, keeping Ava close, and wraps an arm around Ava as Ava’s arm goes around Beatrice’s waist. “If you’re okay, then I’m okay.” 

She closes her eyes rather than look at Mary or Lilith, times her breathing and listens to, _feels_ Ava’s synchronize with it. She imagines healing white light filling her own body and transferring to Ava’s in each and every place where they’re physically connected, imagines the light traveling to Ava’s bruised eye and then filling her insides, fixing every pulled muscle and broken bone hiding beneath her skin. She imagines the halo entrenched in Ava’s spine and the magic it’s performing to keep Ava alive, the unequivocally Divine intervention that brought life back into Ava and brought Ava into Beatrice’s life.

(She will never not be amazed by God’s plan.)

* * *

The sleeping doesn’t get any easier, but the waking up does, because Adriel’s mental bullshit doesn’t stand a chance against Beatrice’s arms, heartbeat, _warmth_.

Ava doesn’t even really care that this is their first time quote-unquote “sleeping together” and that they don’t have any privacy, because having three literal bodyguard friends watching over you is the polar opposite of lying alone in an orphanage, and this whole situation is, pun fully intended, pretty dreamy.

As she dozes she’s vaguely aware of someone turning the lights off. The next time she wakes up her brain is on _fire_ and she screams into a pillow while Beatrice holds her, and she thinks it’s Camila who lays a cold washcloth on the back of her neck; later it’s Adriel’s fingers wrapped tightly around her throat and Beatrice shaking her awake because she’d stopped breathing. Exhaustion (and maybe some secret kisses from Beatrice) is what finally puts her back under and keeps her there until light pours through the crack in the curtain, and she tries to hold onto this for as long as she can: waking up on her own, feeling Beatrice next to her, knowing that this is the safest she’s ever been.

The spell is broken by Mary and Lilith returning from what looks like a trip to the nearest convenience store.

Mary glances Ava’s way as she starts to unload their plastic bags. “Is your girlfriend finally getting some shut-eye?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ava mumbles into Beatrice’s shirt.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t hear you making out in the middle of the night?” Lilith asks so casually that it takes Ava a few moments to even process what she’s said.

She sits up and stretches in an attempt to ignore the heat in her face. “So… These visions, am I right?”

Mary tosses her a pack of Poptarts. “They seem pretty rough. How’re you feeling?”

“Somewhat comparable to the one hangover I’ve ever had. It’s nice, though,” she admits, “having everyone here. Makes it a little easier.”

Lilith sets a bottle of Gatorade on the bedside table and then lingers. “I’ve had nightmares since I came back,” she says quietly, just to Ava. “So if you ever want to talk…”

She lets her offer hang in the air, and Ava nods. “Thanks,” she says sincerely, then opens the bottle and downs about half of it in one go before needing to stop and catch her breath.

“Ava?” Beatrice murmurs, reaching her arm out to find her. “You okay?”

“Also,” Mary announces, “I found these in the dollar bin.” She holds up a stack of DVD cases and hands one to Ava.

She studies the front cover and points to a girl. “Who’s this? With the three hair buns?”

“Of course you like her. That’s Rey—also an orphan, also extremely stubborn, and also a badass when the situation calls for it.”

Ava nods in approval. “She’s kinda hot.”

Beatrice opens her eyes. “What-now?”

Mary snorts. “This is gonna be fun.”

.

“He has the dreamiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“We heard you the first time, Camila,” Lilith replies. “And I don’t care that Poe is part of the Resistance. Every one of these men is the worst.” She pauses for a beat. “Except Finn. Finn is fine.”

“Leave Camila alone,” Ava says. “Mary’s the one who keeps saying how ride-or-die she is for Rose Tico.”

“Because my baby is better than everyone,” Mary snaps, “and she deserves the world.”

“Agreed, but I’m still pretty into Rey.”

Beatrice glares at her. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

Ava shrugs innocently. “What?”

“She’s built like a twig, her combat skills are laughable… I could easily destroy her.”

“You’re just jealous because I _want_ to destroy her,” Ava retorts with a suggestive eyebrow.

“But she’s one of the good guys,” Camila reminds her, looking confused. “Why would you want to cause her any harm?”

Lilith sniggers behind her palm.

“Not literally,” Ava explains. “I meant, like… y’know.”

“She meant sexually,” Beatrice says point-blank.

Ava gives her a look. “I mean, I’d take it slow,” she argues under her breath, then leans over to whisper in Beatrice’s ear. “Very, _very_ slow.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Mary mutters in exasperation. “I know you saved our lives, but if y’all don’t take your cooties somewhere else, I will fucking kill you both.”

“You would try,” they reply in unison, Ava scoffing while Beatrice’s words are a challenge, and the two exchange shy grins.

Mary points to the door. “Out.”

.

They’re back on the van roof, this time lying on their backs and looking up at blue sky.

“I think it’s starting to grow on me,” Ava muses. “This whole Almighty To-Do List thing.”

“You mean God’s plan?”

Ava shrugs. “Yeah. Like, I solved my own murder… found a new family… got the girl…”

“The girl has a name.”

“Sorry, you’re right. I got the Beatrice…” Ava rests her hands behind her head. “What’s not to trust at this point?”

Beatrice leans over, turns Ava’s face, and kisses her. “I think your sentiment is a little naive, but also incredibly sweet, and in all honesty I would _love_ for you to find the same comfort in faith that I do.” Now she rests her head on Ava’s chest. “Would it be weird to take a nap on this van?”

“No weirder than our friends being one-hundred percent aware that we made out last night.”

She expects a strong objection, embarrassment, _something_ from Beatrice, but she only sighs. “They’ll get over it.”

Ava breathes in the fresh air, feels the sunlight on her skin, listens to this beautiful soul fall asleep against her.

Yeah. She thinks she could get behind God’s plan.

**Author's Note:**

> "Can we go home now?" is the only reason why this fic exists. I literally just needed a scene where Ava could say that, and then 7,000 more words happened. You know how it is.
> 
> I had lots of fun bullshitting my way around the lore of this universe, abusing Google translate, and deciding Star Wars was perfectly relevant. 
> 
> Thanks to JJ for being my reader, thanks to Alex for getting me to watch the show, and thanks to Alba and Kristina for being stupidly and unreasonably good at what they do.


End file.
